DISCLAIMER: Oh, no, it's the fluff chapter! What makes it so different than the previous chapters, I hear you ask. Well, um…Shaun kissage, that's what. I could whine and complain and say that I felt obligated to do a chapter like this, but if I have to be perfectly honest, I had way too much fun writing it. In fact, this whole story has turned out to be a really flimsy excuse for this chapter.

Mad props to my ghost writer Nic, without whom this chapter would not be half as enjoyable as it turned out to be.

Julian was waiting at the door with a concerned expression. "Where have you been? What happened?"

"No time, Jules," Sara barked. "Shaun's hurt." She opened the door and helped Shaun inside and onto the bed.

Shaun nodded at Julian and introduced himself. "Shaun Riley."

"I gathered. Julian West." Julian smiled, and Shaun tried to suss out what it was about Sara's new handler that reminded him of a rat.

"I assume you found our prime suspect," Julian continued.

"Yeah, big spiky demon. I tried to bring him in for questioning, but he was more interested in turning us into shish kabobs."

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. Just take care of Shaun."

"It's not that bad," Shaun protested.

Sara ignored his protests, grabbing a notebook and making a quick sketch of the demon they'd encountered while Julian examined the wound in Shaun's side. "I think you got lucky this time, Mr. Riley. He barely nicked you. It's not a deep puncture wound, and it doesn't seem like you've lost a lot of blood. I'm fairly sure you'll live."

"Good to know."

Julian cleaned the wound in his side and placed a bandage around Shaun's waist. "You might want to clean and change the dressing twice a day to avoid infection. I'm afraid until we identify the demon that attacked you, it's impossible to know how you'll be affected. I can give you some basic painkillers and antibiotics to be on the safe side."

"That'd be great."

Julian left a few bandages and medications out, and then packed up his first aid kit. He turned his attention to his protégé. "Sara, a word?"

She adopted a chastised look and joined Julian in the hallway. Tearing the page out of her notebook, she handed it to him. "Artist's rendering, thought it might be helpful."

"I trust this was an accident," he said with an accusatory glare.

"Of course. I would never willingly put a civilian in danger."

"As you've pointed out on more than one occasion, Shaun isn't just any civilian."

"Julian, I did not seek Shaun out. He came to see me, we talked, and things just kind of… happened."

"Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"

"Shaun and I went to the cellar, since that was the last place Tara was seen. We found a secret passageway leading to an old church."

"And that's where you found the big spiky demon?"

"Not just that. There were two bodies in an underground crypt. I'm fairly sure one of them was Tara Farrell."

"I'll inform Detective Ashford."

"We need to deal with this demon before the local PD come swarming in."

"I'm aware of that, Sara."

"Julian, this thing is ten feet tall and armor-plated. It's going to take a lot of firepower to stop it."

"Why don't you let me do some research before you go running off for some cans of nitro-nine?" he admonished. "Did you find anything else in the church?"

"Evidence of how our demon friend got here." She handed over a digital camera. "There was a room in there. The walls are covered with photos, articles, incantations mentioning D'Hoffryn. All of it pointing back to a very obsessive Evelyn Fairfax."

"Scorned woman summons a vengeance demon," Julian concluded, zipping through the photos she took. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time. But there are dozens of vengeance demons, in this dimension and the next…"

"Then I suggest you hit the books."

"Sara, you've obviously made some progress but identifying this particular demon might take time…"

"Look, Julian, I want to know what this thing is and I want to know what its weaknesses are. Because the next time I see it, it's dead."

"Would it do me any good to advise you against making this personal?

"Hmm, let me think…No."

Julian rolled his eyes. "Being impulsive and reckless is not going to help anyone. You need to step back and be rational."

Sara stared at him, then leaned forward and jabbed a finger at his breastbone. "When it's your friend lying there bleeding, then you can come and talk to me about rational." She turned and went back in the room.

Shaun was in the bathroom, examining his bandages with a look that was a curious mix of worry and pride. Ah, battle scars. He turned when he heard the door close. "So that's Julian?" Shaun inquired, shuffling toward the bed. He stacked a few pillows on one side and sat down, wincing.

"That is Julian," she answered, cueing up Sarah McLachlan's "Ice Cream" on the CD player to calm her nerves.

"How long have you worked with him?"

"About two months now."

Shaun pursed his lips, nodding, fishing for details. "What's he like?"

"He's nice," she replied with a smirk. "Are you sure you're okay? Can I get you anything?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. What about you?"

"Nothing a little amaretto won't fix." She again raided the mini-bar. "At least this is something you won't have to worry about with Emma. Puncture wounds, internal bleeding. How are you gonna' explain that, by the way?"

"I'll just tell her I was stabbed by a thug while protecting the life of a small child."

"Smooth." She knocked back the amaretto and tossed him a tequila. He snatched it out of the air and chuckled.

"Cheers, love." Shaun drained the small bottle as Sara sat down beside him on the bed. Close enough that he could smell her shampoo. Chamomile or lavendar or…Christ, he had no idea, but he'd forgotten how incredible her hair smelled.

"Hi," she said softly, smiling at him.

He laughed lightly, a bit taken aback. Where were the sarcasm and self-righteous indignation? Was this some kind of trap?

"Hi," he responded, pulling a silly face to relieve the tension. She smiled broadly and sincerely, against her better judgment, and looked away. Shaun felt as if a ray of sunshine had briefly fallen on him. But then he decided that was far too clichéd and dismissed the thought.

"I'm really sorry," she said, projecting sincerity. "About the gaping wound and all."

"I dunno if it's gaping. Anyway, don't worry. I hear that being impaled by a demon builds character or something."

"Yeah, but it would be nice if you could have a date with me that didn't end in blood loss."

"Then it wouldn't be a date with you, would it?"

Sara tucked a lock of raven hair behind her ear, shrugging and trying to keep her other nervous gestures in check. "I'm sorry, that was stupid of me. I didn't mean to suggest that this was a date."

"Sara, stop apologizing."

"I'm sorry." She slapped her forehead. "Ugh, maybe I should just stop talking." She pursed her lips and cast her gaze on the floor. An uncomfortable silence followed.

Shaun tried to take his attention off the low cut of her tank top by changing the subject. "You know, funny story…"

"What's that?"

"I ran into Liz the other day."

Sara's eyes widened. "How is the legendary Liz?"

"She's getting married to some Australian wanker, Hugh Bana or whatever the fuck his name is."

"Oh, that sucks."

"And then a few hours later," he mused, "I run into you on the other end of a crossbow."

"Hey, I already apologized for that," she insisted.

He scratched his head and smiled warmly. "I don't think I've ever been so happy to have a deadly weapon pointed at me."

"You are a strange man, Riley."

"You're a strange woman, Cross."

Sara bit her lip, gaining confidence. "Fair enough," she agreed. "Look, I know that we got off to a really bad start here, and that I've been really bitchy and self-absorbed, and I didn't exactly help matters by getting you skewered, but I was wondering if we could start again. I mean, doesn't it feel like we've been given a second chance?"

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we could finally say all the things that we've been meaning to say to each other." Shaun held her gaze and gently reached forward, taking her hand in his. He closed both hands around it, brushing the pad of his thumb across her palm.

"Exactly." Sara shivered. And Shaun's voice became so thrillingly low she thought she might slide off the bed.

"Or maybe we could just skip all that and get to the part where you're kissing me."

"Umm, yeah, I'm fine with that."

Shaun blinked, and laid his hand gently on her cheek. Sara leaned into his palm, and scooted closer. Eyes closed, breathing ragged… their lips met, hesitantly. Sara raised her index finger and traced the line of his mouth before kissing him again…gently, then with increased passion. The way Shaun snaked his arms around her and hauled her against him, you'd never know he'd been impaled by a demon not an hour earlier.

But suddenly, Sara pulled away from him and walked to the French doors. "No, no, no. Shaun, we can't do this."

"Why not?" He simply stared after her.

"Because…because of…Grayson."

"Grayson. Oh, no, don't tell me you're back with him."

"No," she answered emphatically. "It's just…when he cheated on me, I swore that I would never go through that again. I don't want to be this awful homewrecking harlot."

For the first time in weeks, he wasn't fooling himself. "You're assuming that Emma and I have a home to wreck."

"You're in a committed relationship, Shaun."

"I'm not. Not now." Pregnant pause... "Well, not at the current time."

"Semantics." Sara paced the floor between the door and the bed, gesturing with her hands. Reasoning. Or trying to. "It doesn't change the fact that there's a woman waiting for you in Room 23. And even if she has horrible taste in home décor, she does have impeccable taste in men."

Shaun opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly cut him off. "Even if you two did have a fight, I'm sure the moment that you walked out the door she regretted everything that she'd said and as soon as she sees you again, she will beg and plead with you to take it all back if you would just give her another chance. Because she will realize that life without you is a horrible thing and if she really loves you, she will not make the same mistake I did. And she won't have to live with the pain and regret that I do everyday. No one should have to do that, even if they're hopelessly uninformed about Star Wars."

Shaun considered her from across the room. Then realized there was nothing to consider. He'd made his choice. "Sara, unless you threaten me with serious bodily harm, I'm gonna' have to kiss you again, right now."

She turned to him with the hungriest look he'd ever seen in those big, brown eyes. "If it's not too much trouble."

Shaun flew off the bed, striding quickly across the room, bent her backward and kissed her. They toppled against the wall with a thud, and Shaun deepened the kiss as she coiled her arms around his neck. Every nerve-shattering memory of their first kiss in Brixton came rushing back to her, and then some; Sara ran her fingers up into his hair, clutching at the ginger strands, and wondered if she'd consciously forgotten how amazing his lips tasted. Tequila or no tequila.

"What took you so long?" she whispered when they finally pulled apart.

"You wouldn't stop talking," he retorted.

Sara planted kisses along the scruff of his jaw and down his neck, all the while undoing the buttons of his shirt as they moved slowly toward the bed. She paused, her eyes lingering on all that pale shop boy flesh as she raked one fingernail up his stomach, over the bandage and along his chest. "I will have you know…that I can talk dirty to you in Magyar, Serbian, and Portuguese."

Shaun's fists clenched at his sides. "Now who's a filthy bitch?"

"You still love it." In one smooth movement, she pushed him onto the bed and straddled him. Shaun groaned - actually, it was more of a yelp - as she leaned down to kiss him again. "Shaun?" she asked breathlessly.

"Uhh-huh?"

"Do you think we might be taking this too fast?"

He nudged her upright, slipping his fingers under her tank top and inching them upward toward her breasts as if to say for fuck's sake, woman…don't change your mind again. "Honestly, Sara, I'm not all that interested in thinking right now."

She ran both hands over his forearms with a triumphant smirk on her lips. "Good, neither am I."

Sara shucked the top and hurled it across the room like a frisbee, snagging the lamp. The first of many items of clothing about to wind up hanging from the furniture. She smothered him in another kiss as he rolled on top of her, the two of them giggling like children. The laughter would cease as the night wore on, and conversation became the furthest thing from their minds.